At a Glance
by BevellaClearlyNotKnown
Summary: Re-telling of the events of the movie. The best scenes for this author were the ones where Alice and Larry interacted. This story takes it a bit further. Please read author note before story. very much Alice/Larry. 'M' for language, as it was strong in the movie.
1. The Gallery

_A/N: Alice is the best character because she is the most honest. She is perfect in every way, her only flaw, if you can call it one, is her need to be loved. If she doesn't feel love, she has to be the one to leave the relationship. _

_She is easy to love, as Dan mentions offhand, but it's more than that. She has a fragile quality, like an injured bird. Yet she is independent enough to break it off with Dan and he has to chase after her. She makes it long enough without Dan to meet and have a fling with Larry._

_She feels differently about Larry, but her previous deep seated love for Dan distracts her from her true path of love with Larry._

_Whenever Anna and Larry interact, it makes Alice sick because she knows it's not honest from both of them. Anna has a strange attraction to Dan, thus she and Larry could never be truly happy._

_This is the story if Alice and Larry had taken that leap, and a look at their moments together, probably the best parts of the movie. What could have happened for them?_

* * *

The white edge of the giant picture frame, that held the black and white photograph of the saddest angel, was the first thing that caught his eye. Smoke wafting through the air, curling and slowing dissipating, was the second.

Larry found himself unable to hide his curiosity, and he turned to the small figure that stood in front of the picture,

"Like it?"

"No."

"Why were you so sad that day?"

She turned to him, her chrome earrings swinging with the movement, her face holding a very different expression from the picture, almost smug.

"Life. "

'Monosyllabic this one,' he thought to himself.

"What's that then?" He turned to look her in the eye, and she smirked at him, humming a non reply.

He gave her a quick once over, the stunning LBD she wore accentuated her lithe figure very well, if she hadn't had a boyfriend, and he not had Anna, he might have considered asking for her number. Instead he picked a safe topic of conversation.

"So, what do you reckon? In general."

She gazed over, and in the case of their height difference, up, at him,

"You wanna talk about art?"

"I know its vulgar to discuss 'the work' at an opening of 'the work,' but someone's gotta do it." He grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious, what do you think?"

She took a brief drag on her cigarette, slowly exhaling before turning to pin him with a serious stare from her dark brown eyes,

"It's a lie. It's a bunch of sad strangers photographed beautifully, and all the glittering assholes who appreciate art say it's beautiful because that's what they want to see, but the people in the photos are sad, and alone, but the pictures make the world seem beautiful…so the exhibition's reassuring, which makes it a lie, and everyone loves a big, fat lie."

She turned away, glaring seemingly at her own portrait, and took a deeper drag on the cigarette.

He swallowed a chuckle,

"I'm the big fat liar's boyfriend."

She turned back to him, unable to hide the shock that was evident for barely a moment on her lovely face, before she was back to her smug self.

"Bastard."

He stuck out his hand, and she took it, her smaller one nearly dwarfed by his.

"Larry."

"Alice."

She held his gaze for a moment, and he didn't notice she had let go first.

She gave him her own up-down look and pulled back, pretending to analyze him,

"So you're Anna's boyfriend?"

"A princess can kiss a toad."

"Frog."

"Toad."

"Frog."

"Toad, frog, lobster. They're all the same."

She smiled to herself, perhaps still a bit in doubt.

"How long have you been seeing her?"

"Four months, we're in the first flush, its paradise, all my nasty little habits amuse her." he observed her carefully, noting the slight slump in her shoulders, and he couldn't resist licking his lips. He decided to change the subject.

"You shouldn't smoke."

"Fuck off." The hurt came through, even though it was merely a playful retort.

He took two mental steps back,

"I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to say that." He smiled at her, and she visibly relaxed again.

She bent down to grab her purse, pulling the pack of Marbolo's out,

"You want one?"

It was the biggest battle to not look down her dress while she bent over, so that he could meet her eyes when she straightened up again.

"No."

He reached out and took the pack from her,

"Yes."

"No."

"Fuck it, yes."

He sighed, he didn't know if he was still talking about the cigarette, but either way his arguing with himself out loud was clearly amusing her as she let out a small giggle.

"No. I've given up." He handed it back to her, and when he looked at her, he almost dropped the pack before she could get her hand around it. Her face was utterly angelic when she was smiling, and full of laughter.

What the hell was he doing? He needed to find Anna, but he couldn't tear himself away.

She bent back down again, merely setting the pack on top of her black clutch, and he found himself looking at the curve of her hair, the grace of her neck, the way the long earring swished over her delicate collarbone. How he wished he could just touch her there.

"So Anna tells me your bloke wrote a book. Any good?" 'There, get the focus back on Anna, the fact that you're taken. And she is too.' He thought to himself furiously.

Her face lost its laughter, and she suddenly turned into a blank canvas.

"Of course."

He used the excuse to look down to her legs, and observe the gentle curve of her hips.

"It's about you, isn't it?"

"Some of me." she said quietly. She held his gaze, as he asked the next obvious question.

"What did he leave out?"

"The truth."

He never broke the stare,

"Is he here? Your bloke."

She didn't hesitate.

She glanced somewhere behind them,

"Yeah, he's over there, talking to your bird."

The sarcastic anger came through on the last word, and it was almost as if someone had slapped him with a cold fish. Reality set in as he turned to follow where she had looked, seeing Anna talking with a tall, dirty blond haired chap. So that was the writer.

"He's very pretty." He turned back to Alice, and she smirked, glancing over at their respective partners, sizing Anna up.

"She's, very, tall." Her grin, once impish, was now almost lascivious. She wasn't jealous of Anna, she knew she had her beat in the looks department.

"True. And you're very short."

She laughed again, and her face softened briefly.

She dropped her cigarette into the nearly empty coke bottle she held in her left hand.

"So tell me, how did you two meet?"

Larry grinned at her,

"It's actually thanks to your bloke. He set us up really. We met over the net, and it was love at first site, at least for me."

She flicked her bangs out of her eyes, a seemingly pointless gesture as they barely reached her eyebrows.

"That's interesting. Dan never mentioned that."

"I don't think he knows. But I bet Anna's filling him in now, judging by the sour look on his face." She smiled at him, and they both glanced back, Larry was correct.

"We call him cupid because of that."

Alice tilted her head, a half smile on her face,

"That's a good joke."

"So, you're a stripper?"

"Serious conversation again?" she asked and he shrugged.

"It was in the book, what can I say?"

She smirked,

"Was that the only reason you read it? So what? I am. And?"

The look on her face, daring, challenging him to judge her was too much to resist. He reached out a hand, just barely touching her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw line, and in that moment, he ached to kiss her.

Her eyes became half lidded, and she began to lean in, and he pulled his hand slowly away, like one would from a frightened animal, afraid of sudden movements. Her gaze never left his, and he stepped back slowly, a grin appearing on his face.

She watched his hand fall back to his side, and her eyes snapped back to his face.

"You take care now."

"I will. You too."

She smiled at him, and refused to watch him leave, and go back to Anna.

He began walking towards his lover, and smirked at how fast Dan scampered away.

Alice turned away from Larry, her face falling almost immediately. 'Screw him.' She thought, almost kissing her in full view of the whole gallery. But then why did her cheek still tingle with the ghost like touch of his hand? Why had her whole being ached, wished, and hoped he would kiss her? What the hell was wrong with her?

She walked past Anna, who stood talking with some frizzy haired art lover, and made sure to click her heels loud enough to catch her glance.

She made her way over to Dan, slipping a hand around his shoulder, reaching up to tap his neck below his ear, his favorite spot to be kissed.

He quickly excused himself from his conversation and turned to wave to Anna, signaling their departure.

Alice gave her a half hearted wave, and when Dan put his arm around her as they left the gallery, she smiled, and pretended this had all been out of a dream.

They walked out onto the street, and he turned to look at her,

"Yours was the best, you were the belle of the bullshit."

"Who were those awful people?"

"Where did they all come from?"

"Why do we care?" she giggled as he reached out a hand to hail a cab.

"You get this one; you'll miss your train."

"I'll be fine, c'mon, it's cold."

He pulled open the door for her, and she turned to look back at him, begging him to stay with her eyes, but for once, she couldn't see how he felt. His eyes were cold and empty.

"I'll see you on Sunday." Final, curt, but not reassuring in the least.

She nodded, and stepped closer, and he met her halfway, kissing her doubts and worries away.


	2. The Club

_A/N: In this version, there is no romantic interlude when Larry signs the divorce papers, he is happy to be untethered from her. She runs back to Dan, and lives unhappily ever after._

* * *

He felt like shit. He wore a suit, yet it didn't make him feel like it should. Anna had left him for that bloody writer bastard. He was a complete twat, yet Anna saw something in him that seemed to appeal more to her. Fucking slag.

He rubbed his chin, this last week he had seemed to forget how to do anything without her reminding him. Shaving should have been the first thing he did when he woke up. Yet all he could think about was her waking up next to that idiot.

Work seemed to blend into an endless blur of people needing him to fix their problems. When was someone going to fix his?

He found himself wandering into a small strip club about four blocks from his new apartment. The smoke and mirrors entrance did nothing for his headache, not to mention the pounding music.

The last time he had been here it had been a punk club, with kids made up like rock singers, playing their hearts out on guitars and drums.

Now it was filled with other men in suits leering at topless women who strutted about in dangerously high heels.

He made his way over to the bar, but before he could reach it, and order a simple single malt scotch, a girl in a light pink wig turned around, he thought perhaps he stopped breathing, because she looked a fuckofalot like Alice. When she noticed him, she smiled, and he realized with a jolt it _was _Alice.

She took his hand and led him down a navy blue walled hallway, towards a room, the door half open, and turned to him with her impish grin,

"Don't worry, there are drinks inside."

* * *

After the first two scotches, he seemed to be in a half awake haze.

"Is this real? Am I dreaming?"

"No. You're in heaven." She smirked at him as her top hit the floor.

He sat back on the plush navy leather couch, the sight of Alice's perfectly perky breasts was mouthwateringly sexy. She could have just gone around like that all the time and the men of the world would die happy. But here, for a price, he could see her completely naked.

All those months ago at that art gallery he would have been satisfied with a simple kiss, but now, he had to have it all.

He nodded and she began to lower her pink sequined thong as well, leaving her in only her clear high heels, and a single black and purple lace garter.

He crossed himself, and tucked a bill into the garter; reveling in the mere moment he could touch her to do that. Other than that, he couldn't lay a finger on her.

She stood on the lit pedestal for about 30 seconds, before pulling her thong back on, and sitting down and slipping her fringed babydoll bra back on as well.

She reached up to straighten her light pink wig, and smiled at him.

He found the words slipping out before his drunken brain could stop them,

"I love you."

"Thank you."

"What's this room called?"

He sat up from his slouching position, and leaned as close to her as he dared.

"The Paradise suite."

"How many Paradise suites are there?"

"Eight."

She stood up slowly and began to walk away from him, only to place the bills from her garter into a tiny silver stringed purse.

"Do I have to pay you to talk to me?"

"No. But if you'd like to tip me, you're welcome."

He reached out to tuck another bill into her garter, his hands brushing her thighs, if only for another stolen moment.

"Thank you."

"I used to come here a million years ago, it was a punk club then, the stage was—everything is a version of something else. Twenty years ago, how old were you?"

"Four."

"Christ. When I was in flares, you were in nappies."

"My nappies were flared." She grinned at him.

"You have the face of an angel."

"Thank you."

"What does your cunt taste like?"

"Heaven." Her smile widened a bit, and it reached her eyes this time.

He grinned back, and then grabbed another bill to place in her garter,

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Three months."

"Straight after he left you?"

"No one left me."

She began to walk on top of the couch, with the intent to tease him enough so he would drop the subject, and it worked beautifully.

"Mind if I smoke?"

"I thought you quit."

"I thought so too."

He lit up a cigarette and she started stalking towards him, only to brush behind him, where the cameras would be unable to see.

He felt the heat from her leg on his lower back, and he felt the room temperature rise a couple degrees.

"Nice wig."

"Thank you."

"Does all this turn you on?"

"Sometimes."

"Liar. You're telling me it turns you on because you think that's what I want to hear. You think I'm turned on by it turning you on."

"The thought of me creaming myself when I strip for strangers doesn't turn you on?"

"Put like that…yes." She stood on the couch to his right and bent slowly over, the bottom of her thong doing little to hide the fact their conversation was completely true.

He groaned aloud.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe."

"Are you allowed to flirt with me?"

"Sure."

"Really?"

"No I'm not, I'm breaking all the rules."

"You're mocking me."

"Yes, I'm allowed to flirt."

She stood back up, holding his gaze, despite the fact her ass was practically in his face.

"To prise my money from me."

"To prise your money from you, I may do or say as I please."

"Except touch."

"We're not allowed to touch."

He told her to open her legs, and she did, cheekily only about 3 inches.

"Wider."

She obeyed, and he told to pull those ridiculously small panties aside, he moved closer, almost begging,

"Show me."

She did, and he groaned again, the sight of her bare, almost glistening sex was nearly enough to drive him mad, and he couldn't touch it. Dan had been able to touch her and have her anytime he wanted. He was a right bloody idiot for leaving her.

* * *

"What would happen if I touched you now?"

"I would call security." 'But I wouldn't mean it.' She thought to herself.

"What would they do?"

"They would ask you to leave, and not come back."

He couldn't tear his gaze away,

"What if I wouldn't leave?"

"They would remove you. Those are security cameras in the ceiling. They always get the best show."

Larry glanced upward, giving the ceiling a small salute.

"I think it's best if I don't attempt to touch you. I'd like to touch you. Later."

"I'm not a whore."

"I wouldn't pay." And she wouldn't ask him to.

"Why the fuck did he leave you?"

She ignored him.

"What's your job?"

"A question. You've asked me a question."

"So?"

"It's a chink in your armor."

She sighed,

"I'm not wearing armor."

"Yes you are. You know you do. Why are you calling yourself 'Jane?'"

"Because it's my name."

"We both know it isn't. You're all protecting your identities, there's a girl out there who calls herself 'Venus.' What's her real name?"

"Pluto."

She got up from sitting on top of the couch, and slowly walked over towards him, just barely slipping by his arm without touching him.

"You're cheeky."

"Would you like me to stop being cheeky?" she caught his glance as she slipped by, and he felt the electricity of her skin, only millimeters away, or was that merely the brush of her fringed top?

"What's your name?"

"Daniel."

She flinched, but as she was turned away from him, he didn't notice.

"Daniel the dermatologist."

"I never told you my job." He sounded rather taken aback, she was no longer playing their game by the rules.

"I guessed." She quipped.

"You're strong."

She stepped up to sit on the top of the lit area behind the couch again, this time across from him.

She reached down to pick up a flute of champagne, taking a dainty sip.

"There's another girl out there, judging by the scars a recent patient of 'Doctor Tit'. Calls herself 'Cupid,' who's gonna tell her Cupid was a bloke?"

"He wasn't a bloke, he was a little boy."

"I want you to tell me your name." he couldn't keep the anger and frustration from his voice.

She wasn't scared. She had had worse clients before.

"Please." She lay back down, and he slowly tucked another bill into her garter.

"Thank you. My name is Jane."

"Your real name."

He slipped another bill into the garter, and she smiled. She liked this game.

"Thank you. My real name is Jane."

"Careful."

"Thank you, still Jane."

"I've got about another 500 quid here, why I don't just give you all this money, and you tell me your real name."

He tossed it at her and she glanced at it for a mere half second, fear slipping across her face, before she looked up to meet his gaze, but not fast enough, as he held a few bills in his hand, using it to tip her chin up.

Clever boy.

"Alice."

"I promise."

He tossed it at her.

"Thank you. My real name is plain, Jane Jones." She scooped up the money, and braced herself for the slap.

"I may be rich, but I'm not stupid." He growled at her.

"What a shame doc, I love them rich and stupid—"

"DON'T YOU FUCK AROUND WITH ME." she flinched again.

"I apologize."

"Accepted."

He didn't retreat, and when she slipped down to begin picking up the tossed bills, she brushed her bottom against the front of his pants and it took his attention away from his anger at her name. He quickly moved away and turned his anger elsewhere.

"All the girls in this hellhole, the bematted robots, coked up babydolls, and you're no different. You all use stage names to con yourself into thinking you're someone else so you don't feel the shame when you show your cunt and arseholes to complete fucking strangers."

She stood up, brushing past him, and if they'd been anywhere else he would have grabbed her arm.

"I am trying to have a conversation here!"

"You're out of cash buster."

"I paid for this room."

"This is extra."

She tried to hold back tears, she had to get out of there before they both got in trouble.

"We met last year."

"Wrong girl."

"TALK TO ME."

"I am."

She stalked back over to him, unable to leave.

"Talk to me in real life. I didn't know you'd be here. I know who you are. I love you. I love everything about you that hurts."

He broke down, his head falling into his hands.

"She left me. She won't even talk to me. You feel the same, I know you do. Hold me, let me hold you."

The madness of the situation aside, she couldn't allow it to compromise her, she told him forcefully, and maybe even a bit to herself,

"You can't cry in here. And you know we're not allowed to touch."

"Come home with me. It's safe, let me look after you."

"I don't need looking after." She couldn't meet his gaze any longer, they both knew she was lying.

"Everyone needs looking after."

"I'm not your revenge fuck."

"I'll pay you."

"I don't need your money."

"You have my money."

"Thank you."

"Thank you? Thank you? Is that some kind of rule?"

"I'm just being polite."

"Get a lot of grown men in here? Crying their guts out?"

"Occupational hazard."

"Have you ever desired a customer?"

"Yes."

She stepped close, and he could smell the sweat, and her own scent, warm vanilla.

"Put me out of my misery cause I'm being pretty fucking honest about my feelings for you. Do you desire me?"

"Your feelings?" she retorted, with a small glance downward.

"Whatever."

"No, I don't desire you. No one would in this state. You're drunk, and possibly high from lack of sleep."

"Thank you, sincerely for your honesty."

"You're welcome." She smirked at him, climbing up to perch on the pedestal, and he chuckled to himself, downing the rest of the champagne from the same flute she had held earlier.

"You think because you don't desire us, or love us, or even want us that you've won. You women don't understand the territory, because you are the territory."

"It's not a war."

He laughed aloud.

"Of course it is. If I asked you to strip right now, would you?"

"Of course. Do you want me to?" her hand rose to push the pink sparkly strap off of her shoulder, leaving it bare, and his mind went into overdrive to resist touching her like he did all that time ago.

"No. Tell me something true."

"Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. But it's better if you do."

She smirked at him.

"You're cold. You're all cold at heart."

"Maybe we just need to be warmed up."

"What do you have to do to get a bit of intimacy around here?" he glared at the ceiling cameras.

She giggled a bit at him,

"Maybe next time I will have worked on my intimacy."

"No. I'll tell you what's going to work, is that you're gonna take your gear off right now, and your gonna turn around slowly, and your gonna bend over and touch the fucking floor, for my viewing pleasure."

"Is that what you want?"

"What else could I want?"

Before she did, she pulled off her wig slowly, revealing her real brown bob, she ran her hand through it, fluffing it back to reality, and turned to give him a cheeky grin, tossing the pink wig into his lap.

Larry couldn't tear his gaze from her as she started to remove her top.

* * *

"You'll never guess who was at the club tonight."

Larry pulled her in for a smoldering kiss, and she bit his bottom lip gently, and couldn't keep from giggling.

"You're right. I'll never guess. Who was there?"

"Dan."

"Ah."

"I also handed in my two weeks. They think I'm going to get uglier the more I get pregnant. They don't do maternal leave." She grinned.

He put his arms around her.

"They're a bunch of fools. You already have the glow, even though you don't show at all. Fuck." He grimaced.

"Aww my husband, the dermatologist poet. But yeah, he tried his best to win me over with his stupid apologies and shit."

* * *

***flashback***

* * *

The bright lights reflected off of her platinum blond shoulder length wig, and as she made a turn on the pole, she saw him, it seemed he had stumbled in here by accident, until he noticed her.

His eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped.

She smirked at him, and subtly gave him the finger.

He didn't seem to notice. She hopped down from the pedestal and made her way over to him.

"What are you doing here buster?" she spat.

"Just hear me out, please Alice. I'm dying without you."

"Cry me a river. Did your photographer get too old for you? Well too bad. I've found myself a real man, and I don't need a loser like you."

He looked thunderstruck.

"You don't mean…"

"Larry. Yeah, and he even made an honest woman out of Me." she held up her left hand, where a single gold band glinted at him, mocking him.

"He lets you still strip? That's a little weak of him." He scoffed at her.

She was seconds away from slapping him, but she sighed, and thought of the silent witness inside her.

"He lets me do what I want. He knows it doesn't mean anything. And I don't do private dances anymore. Not that it's any of your business, but I'm leaving soon."

She glanced downward at her bare, still flat stomach, and he followed her gaze, his mouth falling open again.

"You're pregnant?"

"Yep. About 2 months now."

"But…"

"Goodbye Dan. Have a nice life."

"Alice wait—"

"My name is Jane."

* * *

***end flashback***

* * *

Larry chuckled.

"Good girl. Glad you gave that bastard a bit taste of his own medicine."

"Mmmhm. I don't know what I saw in him. Maybe it was just his voice. But yours is better." She glanced up at him, and he smirked.

"Along with everything else about you."

"So how about you do a little dance for me?"

"Have you got any money?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

* * *

_A/N:_

_I always thought that Dan and Anna deserved each other as they were the two liars who caused the most damage. The only thing Alice ever lied about was her real name, and that never harmed a soul. Larry was honest to a fault, sometimes to his disadvantage, but always truthful._

_I doubt I am alone in feeling this way about the story, but I am grateful for any who took the time to read this. thank you._


	3. The End

_A/N: And just how did miss Alice end up pregnant? Hmm perhaps on her honeymoon? Please enjoy :)_

* * *

Alice lay next to Larry, reading a book. She hadn't noticed but he had fallen asleep, and his hand still held hers. She glanced over at him, and when she started to lift her hand she bumped his, and he stirred a bit.

"Shit." She muttered to herself. But she couldn't help smiling as he shifted onto his side, his eyes cracking open a bit, seeing her still awake, he groaned.

"Aren't you even a bit tired?" his voice sounded a bit gravely from sleep.

"Nope. Not a bit. That's why I'm reading. But this book isn't boring enough to make me tired." She held it out, turning it to show the cover.

It was a trashy romance, with just enough plot to be interesting.

"What time is it?" he croaked, and she turned to the bright red LED clock beside the bed,

"Nearly 5 a.m. practically when we'd get up back home."

"What? Did you grow up on a farm or something?"

She giggled softly,

"No silly. I'm just kidding. That is the typical non-american question. You are utterly ordinary after all." She pouted at him.

"This is our honeymoon. We can sleep when we get home."

"Yes that's true. But you wear me out angel."

"I thought I made you feel young."

"You do. But feeling and being are different."

She set her book down and slid down further into the covers, scooting over until she was flush with him.

"Fuck me."

"After that, we sleep."

"Deal."

He captured her lips in a kiss, his one day stubble tickling her chin and she pulled away unable to hide her laughter.

"Normally a man might take laughter the wrong way."

"No man kisses like you, so rest easy."

She pushed the comforter down a bit, to reveal his bare chest, and her white t-shirt clad chest.

He reached around lazily to begin pulling off her shirt, and she raised her arms to oblige.

Finally he had her breasts bared before him again. He marveled every time at their perfect shape, and the light peach color of her puckering nipples, which caused him to groan aloud. They fit in his hands and when he gently began massaging them as he kissed her fervently; she hummed and pushed closer, trying to gain friction elsewhere.

"Should I turn off the light?" he whispered in her ear, before he began nibbling on it, and she huffed in frustration.

"No! You should get busy."

"Impatient are we?"

She hummed and writhed in his arms a bit, shamelessly rubbing herself against his broad thigh, and he finally gave in, slowly kissing down her stomach, until he reached the edge of her sleep shorts, which incidentally were a pair of his boxers.

He tugged them down agonizingly slow in her opinion, but quickly began to kiss every inch of skin that was revealed.

When he finally licked her centre she gave a mewl like a kitten, and he grinned smugly.

Alice reached down to put her hands in his hair, trying to control him and bring on her climax faster, but he was having none of that. He stopped moving the second he felt her fingers weave through his short black hair.

"Say it."

"Please." It was a whisper, but he heard it.

He reached a hand up to rub his thumb on the top of her sex, and swirled his tongue at the same time, and she fell over the edge, exploding into his mouth and clenching her thighs around his head.

Her vision went white, and she could only gasp out his name.

He set his hand on her, feeling the slight aftershocks, and slowly climbed back up to kiss her, and she could taste herself in the kiss.

He slipped off his pajama pants, and she grinned at the sight of his reaction to her orgasm, he caught her gaze and slowly slid inside her, she was more than wet enough from his previous ministrations.

He slowly began thrusting in and out, and she wrapped her legs around his back, urging him in deeper. Her breath was coming in short pants and she could feel the coil of pleasure in her stomach tightening again.

He reached his arms around her, pulling her up close and kissing her, their tongues dancing as the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room.

She gave a twist of her hips, and he lost control, sporadically thrusting into her as he found his release. She clenched around him moments later, and he felt her relax in his arms.

He pulled out of her slowly, and fell onto the bed beside her.

"Now are you tired?"

She smiled dreamily,

"Yes. You wore me out doctor."

He pulled her close, and she turned off the light.

* * *

_A/N: Because i couldn't resist giving them a fluffy moment. R/R!_


End file.
